


(You Are My) Sentimentality

by silverfoxflower



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many things that Natasha could have said to that statement, from suggestive (<i>I’ve been known to be very persuasive</i>) to blunt (<i>With my training, I stood the best chance of survival against the Hulk</i>). </p><p>“They thought I could do the job.” She said, raising an eyebrow. <i>Do you think differently?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	(You Are My) Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kawabiala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawabiala/gifts).



**Before**

They took a train from Namagiripettai to New Delhi. 

“Men with guns make me nervous, as a general rule.” Bruce said apologetically, as he backed away from the provided vehicle, which, admittedly, was bristling with SHIELD agents. 

“Are you sure a crowded train station would be better?” Natasha asked, her voice, perhaps, too brittle. She didn’t like the emotion of _fear_ , hadn’t felt such a visceral rush of it, shaking her down to her bones, for long enough to grow complacent. Near Bruce she was on her defensive always. 

Bruce took her veiled censure with good-humor. “I’ve gotten quite used to crowds. They calm me.” 

“We could sedate you.” Natasha said. 

“You’d better save that for the plane ride,” Bruce replied. 

+

The countryside was aroil with dark, red earth, the cities flashing by in spades of darkness. Bruce was slowly consuming a bag of dried banana chips, a worn paperback sitting on his lap with his finger marking the page. He had made no attempt to start conversation the entire train ride, just obeyed all of Natasha’s directions complacently, if with an edge of amusement. 

The train rumbled with a hypnotic rhythm. Natasha stared out the window, fighting against fatigue, one eye on Banner at all times. 

“Why you?” He asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “Why did they send you to seek me out?” 

There were many things that Natasha could have said to that statement, from suggestive ( _I’ve been known to be very persuasive_ ) to blunt ( _With my training, I stood the best chance of survival against the Hulk_ ). 

“They thought I could do the job.” She said, raising an eyebrow. _Do you think differently?_

Bruce looked at her for a long minute, shadow sliding over his face and bathing him in darkness, the lenses of his glasses flashing like lightning on night sky. 

+

At first, Bruce thought that she kept her hands on him as a precaution against his escape which, depending on what form he ended up making said escape in, could have been an exercise in futility. As far as he saw, though, there were no armed men who followed them onto the train, and none who stood out in the crowd, so it was just them, in the middle of the New Delhi train station, buffeted one way and another by the press of hundreds of people.

Natasha pressed against him as they followed the flow of populace out of the train station, guiding him along with a light hand on his back, fingers at the crook of his elbow, and always, always, she kept a careful watch of her surroundings without making it look like she was making any particular effort. Bruce knew what that was like. He, too, had quickly mapped the exits and quickest routes to get there as soon as he had stepped off of the train – not of any particular desire to run, but of instinct. 

Then Bruce realized, with small shock, that Natasha was trying to _protect_ him, leading him through the crowd like a skittish asset with a target on his back – all of which was true, now that he thought about it. 

“Is this really necessary?” He asked Natasha, as she inspected the taxi-driver’s ID before allowing him to take them to the airport. 

“I was instructed to take every precaution.” She said, with a trace of a smile. “You are my responsibility.” 

+

She was afraid of him, Bruce could see, and all the more admirable because she could manage to be professional in spite of it. There were moments when she looked at him with such wariness and fear that he felt guilt like a physical stab through the gut. Other times, she was brisk, almost friendly, and Bruce was affection-starved and pathetic enough to soak it up. Her half-smiles made him hungry for more, but that was nothing but a passing wish, dry with resigned futility. 

Her fingers were warm curled around his wrist as he drifted into a sedated sleep, the rumble of the plane shaking through his bones. 

 

**After**

“I heard,” Natasha padded into the room, arms folded across her chest. “That you were going to pull another disappearing act, doctor.” 

Bruce turned around, his body sagging slightly in resignation when he saw her in the doorway. He summoned a smile – more of a pull of the lips. “Are you here to stop me?” 

Natasha raised one shoulder in a half-shrug, but her fond expression belied the gesture. He had gotten better at reading her face, Bruce thought, which still meant that 90% of her motivations still mystified him. 

“Stark is throwing conniptions.” She said, walking slowly around the perimeter of the room to sit on the edge of his bed. Bruce looked away, a tickle of embarrassed irritation crawling down his spine. “Didn’t he offer you a 7-figure salary to take the job in his R&D? Plus continued residence at Stark Towers?” She laughed quietly. “He’ll miss having someone around smart enough to follow his ramblings.” 

“Yeah, well.” Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. The month he had spent at Stark Towers felt like a vacation from reality - clean water, a safe place to sleep, nothing to run from, nothing to be afraid of. He couldn’t stay here any longer. “From what I’ve seen in the news,” He gestured to the TV. “Thor and Steve are off on their own adventures. Maybe it’s time I had a few of my own.” He smiled at her because he was smiling a lot these days. It was easier than repeating _I’m okay, I’m okay_ ad infinitum.

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Natasha said, and as he watched from the corner of his eye, deliberated drew a manila folder from underneath her arm and placed it on the bed. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked, with the creeping sense of resignation that Natasha had done it again, had _won_ and he really should have left in the night without talking to anyone like he’d planned and maybe he then he wouldn’t be waylayed like this. 

“Employment contract, of sorts.” Natasha said. “Thor and Steve have already signed, Tony and his team of lawyers are waiting on your call.” Her voice turned soft, a deliberate tactic. “He really cares about your opinion, you know.” 

Bruce felt a muscle twitch in his jaw, and he had to sit still and keep an eye on his watch until the beeping slowed and then stopped. 

Natasha stood behind him. “Well, think it over,” she said. “But don’t take _too_ long.” 

Bruce bent his head, listened to her walk towards the bedroom door, listened to the creak of her steps that she made purposely because he knew that if she hadn’t wanted him to hear her leave, he would have heard nothing. He felt tired all of a sudden. This – all of this – was a game, and he’d never been good at keeping up. 

“What about you?” He asked. “Did you sign?” Bruce looked up to see her watching him, the curve of her back a question mark, the look in her eyes reminiscent of that train station in New Delhi, when her fingers firm on his arm guided him through the crowds.

“Agent Barton and I are already under contract to SHIELD.” She said. 

“Would you have chosen otherwise?” He asked.

“That’s the wrong question.” She said gently. 

“Okay.” Bruce rubbed at his wrist. “Why did you come here to convince me? Why you?” 

Natasha’s lips curved into a smile, full as a flower in bloom.


End file.
